


Both sides of the story

by dr_impala221b (enigmaticNeurologist)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-15 15:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4611873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticNeurologist/pseuds/dr_impala221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the beginning, there was something there.  When you pull someone out of hell, and place a brand on their soul, that bond is one that will stay with you forever.  And it has no boundaries.  Through deceit, demons, and death, the love between Dean Winchester and Castiel will remain strong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This work is heavily based off of the canonatical text, and will eventually include all scenes where Dean and Castiel have interacted in the show. Dean's POV is the entire chapter, and the italicized text on the right hand side is Castiel's POV. This is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, and I would love some feedback, whether positive or negative. Thank you, and I hope this is as fun to read as it is to write!

I thought we were ready.  Bobby had spent days researching sigils, we had rifles filled with

_Rock salt_

rounds, buckets set up to soak whatever the hell it was that pulled me from the pit with

 _holy water_.

Even with all that prepared, the clanging coming from the roof made my breath uneven. All the lights in the barn blew out, and I tensed every muscle.  When the door opened and he walked right over the

_Devil’s trap_

I didn’t hesitate to shoot him until I ran out of ammo.  “Who are you?” I asked, my jaw set, not sure if I even wanted the answer.  

_And_

walking closer with every word, he responded, “I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”

_Knife_

in hand, I met his gaze, unblinking. “Yeah, thanks for that.”  When I drew back and stabbed Ruby’s knife into his chest, it

_doesn't_

even faze him.  While keeping eye contact the whole time, the trenchcoat guy pulls the knife out of him and drops it to the ground.  

Bobby attempts to knock him out while I have the guy’s attention, but it doesn’t

_work._

Whatever this thing is, it must have eyes

_on_

the back of its head or something.  Eyes still on me, damn this guy stares a lot, he grabs the board Bobby was holding and with a two fingered forehead touch Bobby is on the ground.  

_An_

action that was a poor choice on his part. Now I was pissed, a little less so when the man said that Bobby was fine, but not a lot less.  “Who are you?” I asked again, hoping to get an actual answer. “I’m Castiel.” This was getting old, “I mean, what are you?” “I’m an

_angel_

of the lord.” Who did this Castiel guy think he was? Angels aren’t real.

_I_

would’ve seen one, or some other hunter would have.  “It’s not possible,” I said, “There’s no such thing.”  The  

_look_

Castiel gave me was hard to read, but he still wouldn’t stop staring

_at_

me.  “This is your problem Dean,” he angled his head down and looked up at me, “You have no faith.” I watched

_him_

as he drew himself up to his full height

_and_

took a deep breath, lifting his chin.  Thunder sounded in the barn, and through flashes of lightning I saw them.

_His_

wings.  Black feathered shadows, with a span that covered the entire barn wall. They made him look powerful, otherworldly,

 _beautiful_.

It took me a second to register what I was looking at, and when it finally hit me I couldn’t tear my

_eyes_

away.  Maybe angels were real, but that still doesn’t answer my question.  “Why would an angel rescue me from hell?”

_I_

asked once the silhouettes of Castiel’s wings had faded.  With how I lived my life, I

_was_

pretty much the opposite of a good person.  I drank, I slept around, hell, my job was basically killing things.  None of those are on the list of what are considered the

‘ _right_

and good things

_to_

do.’  I should’ve been the last person Castiel chose to

 _save_.

During this entire thought process, Castiel kept staring.  In these few minutes since we’ve met I don’t think he has taken his eyes off me for more than ten seconds.  I’m not exactly discouraging

_him_

though, I can’t stop returning the gaze.   I don’t know how long we stayed like that, looking into each other’s eyes like we were in some shitty chick flick, but Castiel broke the silence, “Good things do happen

 _Dean_.”

My gaze quickly shifted to a glare. “Not in my experience.”  Instead of replying directly, which Castiel

_doesn’t_

ever seem to do; he tilted his head slightly and gave me the cutest confused look I’ve ever seen. “You don’t

_think_

you deserve to be saved.”  No, that’s wrong.  It’s not that I don’t think I deserve salvation, I know

_I_

don’t.   Damn, talking to this guy was like talking to the dragon from Merlin, all cryptic unhelpful answers.  I don’t know what I

_should_

do.  Is there some angel etiquette guide I have to follow to prevent being smited or something? I guess I wouldn’t

_have_

been raised from hell in the first place if they wanted me dead. “Why did you do it?” I

_tried_

again, hoping to get even just a slightly clearer response.  Castiel dropped his voice even lower,  “Because God commanded it.”


	2. Are you there God? It's me, Dean Winchester

I blinked my eyes open and immediately turned to look over the back of the couch at Sam.  

_His_

  
body was still sprawled out on the hotel bed.  I planned on falling back asleep then and there, but a figure in a tan trenchcoat leaning on the counter made me pick my head back up.  I hadn't seen Castiel since his

_performance_

  
back at the barn.  I checked Sam's sleeping form again, then quickly drew myself off of the couch and into the kitchen.  Castiel fixed me

  
_with_

  
his blue unwavering gaze

  
_the_

  
moment I made eye contact.  "Excellent job with all the  
  


 _witnesses_."

  
My sleep hazed surprise flipped to annoyance, "You were hip to all this?"  Castiel glanced away from me, "I

  
 _was_ ,

  
um, made aware." I responded to that with an

  
_exemplary_

  
bitchface worthy of my little brother, "Well, thanks for the angelic assistance. I nearly got my heart ripped out of my chest."  The smallest smirk upturned one corner of Castiel's mouth

  
" _But_

  
you didn't."  No, I didn't, but the chances of being killed by the damn walking dead would've been far lower if

  
_he_

  
had actually done something about it.  "I thought you were supposed to be guardians, you know? Fluffy wings, halos, not dicks." Castiel   
  


_needs_

  
to quit doing that half smirk thing.  Its making me think stuff I really don't need

  
_to_

  
think about while in the presence of a damn angel. "Read the bible. Angels are warriors of god. I'm a soldier." Castiel could

  
_learn_

  
a few things about how to be a good soldier.  Proper warriors don't just sit on the sidelines while others do their dirty work.  "Well, then why didn't you fight?" Castiel looked mildly uncomfortable at

  
 _that_.

  
"I'm not here to perch on your shoulder Dean, I had larger concerns."  Who did Castiel think he was?

  
_An_

  
actual soldier gives a shit about the people he protects. "Concerns? People are getting torn to shreds down here, and by the way, while all this is going where the hell is your boss huh? If there is a god."  Fucking

  
 _Angel_.

  
"There's a God," Cas glances down and

  
_doesn't_

  
make eye contact.  "I'm not convinced, cause if there was a god what's he waiting for huh? Genocide? Monsters roaming the earth? The freakin apocalypse? At what point does he lift a finger to help the poor bastards that are stuck down here?"  Do angels

  
_cater_

  
to anyone but themselves? "The lord works-," Castiel started.  "If you say 'in mysterious ways' so help me I will kick your ass."  Castiel lifted his hands off the counter in annoyance and dropped them back down.  It took him a while

  
_to_

meet my eyes again.  His reaction surprised me, and I think it showed.  "So Bobby was right," I said hesitantly, "about

  
_the_

  
witnesses. This was some kind of sign, of the apocalypse?" Castiel's deep blue stare grew stronger, and on a

  
_whim_

  
I moved closer to him and leaned back against the kitchen counter, my anger slowly fading into a kind

  
_of_

  
disbelieving curiosity.  "That's why we're here, big things afoot." How did Castiel have a voice that low? Would it get any deeper if he was lying on the bed, trenchcoat and shirt thrown haphazardly over

  
_a_

  
chair on the other side of the room, voice laced with desire, begging me to touch him? His low moans and what the fuck am I thinking.  He's another

  
 _man_ ,

  
not even a man, an angel in the form of one, and if Castiel could truly read my mind with those dark blue stares, I should probably work harder on censoring my thoughts.  The last thing

  
_we_

  
need is for our friendship/partnership/alliance to be any more strange than it already was.  Castiel had just said something,  I should reply. "Do I want to know what kind of things?" I was trying to

  
_follow_

  
this conversation to the end, but I was afraid of Castiel's answers.  He inclined his head slightly and said, "I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know.  

  
_The_

  
rising of the witnesses is one of the sixty-six seals."  Well shit, that sounded anything but good, "Okay, I'm guessing that's not a show at seaworld,"   Castiel continued as if he hadn't heard me.  "Those seals are being broken on  

  
_orders_

  
from Lillith." Fuck, Lillith was at it again.  Not like she had ever stopped.  That evil bitch never stopped.   Her idea

  
_of_

  
a rest day was to possess a six year old girl and kill her family over the course of several terror filled days.  I tried to not let my panicked surprise show, "She did the spell, she rose the witnesses."

  
_Heaven_

  
had better put a stop to Lillith's shit, she's the one who sent me to the pit in the first place,

  
_and_

  
won't hesitate to do so again.  "And she didn't just raise them here, twenty other hunters are dead." Castiel looked away from me, with an look on his face that

  
_must_

  
have been something like regret, or possibly shame.  My anger rekindled, but this time, instead of being directed at heaven and their sloppy ideals, it was because Lillith was still playing this game.  We had to put a

  
_stop_

  
to it, as soon as we could.  "Of course, she picked victims  

  
_the_

  
hunters couldn't save so that they would barrel right after us." My lip twisted upward in a sneer.  Lillith wasn't just

  
_breaking_

  
these 'seals', she was trying to break us as well.   Castiel tilted his head slightly in agreement, "Lillith has a certain sense

  
_of_

  
humor." He got that right,  

  
_the_

  
demonic bitch was about as twisted as they come.  I still didn't understand how we let her break one of the

  
 _seals_ ,

  
"Well, we put those spirits back to rest."  Castiel twitched the corners of his mouth into what could be considered a frown, "Doesn't matter, the seal was broken." I blinked

  
_at_

  
him.  Same as the first time we met, Castiel had stayed true to telling snippets of answers, not ever replying

  
_all_

  
at once.  "Why break the seal anyway?" The effort it

  
_costs_

  
to break sixty-six seals must be a lot, raising the dead isn't a simple task, and Lillith must have some reasoning behind it.  "You think of the seals as locks on a door," Castiel said slowly, averting his eyes. "Okay, last one opens and..." Castiel stepped closer,  

  
" _Lucifer_

  
walks free." Wait, what the fuck. Lucifer? As in, the damn devil himself? He isn't real.  He can't be.  Someone

  
_must_

  
have known something about it.   The hunter's network is a big place.  Something as big as fucking Satan could   
  


_not_

 

have gone unnoticed.  "Lucifer." Was Castiel saying this just to get a

  
_rise_

  
out of me? If so, this was one lame ass joke.  "I thought Lucifer was just a story they told at demon Sunday school." I spit out. "There's no such thing." Castiel did that little half-smile thing.

  
_He_

  
really needs to stop doing that, it makes me take far more effort to censor my thoughts.  Thoughts I   

  
_shouldn't_

  
even be having in the first place.  "Three days ago you thought there was no such thing as me. Why do you think we're here, walking among you for the first time in two thousand years?" It took me a second to

  
 _speak_.

  
I had just barely accepted that angels were real, and now an angel named Castiel visits me and tells me that the big bad guy downstairs is real too? "You're here

  
_to_

  
stop Lucifer."  Castiel nodded at

  
 _me_ ,

  
and said, "That's why we've arrived."  Holy shit, he was really close to me.  How could someone have eyes that looked

  
_like_

  
that? I have never seen any blue that color.  Would they still look like

  
_that_

  
with their pupils blown, eyelids hooded, head tilted back as

  
_I,_

  
shit I did it again, and I'm pretty sure I accidentally licked my lips this time.  I really need to stop thinking like that.  I

  
_am_

  
a human.  And I'm straight.  Usually. Kind of.  Okay, maybe I could be considered heteroflexible, but Castiel was an all

  
_powerful_

  
angel of the lord, the last person I should be having sexual thoughts about.  I should probably say something

  
_and_

  
stop staring at him.  "Wow, bang up job so far.  Stellar work with the witnesses.  It's nice."  

  
_I_

  
barely held back an eye roll, and shifted so I was leaning more heavily on the counter.  I needed to distance myself from Castiel's face.  He obviously had no concept of personal space.  Why the fuck was I assigned to a hot angel?  What did I do to

  
_deserve_

  
this? Castiel moved even closer, "We tried." I tried to maintain eye contact, but I had to look away, he was too close. "There are other battles, other seals.  Some we'll win, some we'll lose.  This one we lost."  I snorted softly.  Not meaning any dis-

  
 _respect_ ,

  
but Castiel took it that way. He stepped

  
_even_

  
closer to me, and if I leaned in far enough I could kiss him.  My gaze flicked to his lips.  They were chapped, and only slightly pinker than the rest of his face.  Castiel continued talking and I forced my gaze   

  
_from_

  
his lips back to his eyes. "Our numbers are not unlimited.  Six of my brothers died in the field this week.  You think the armies of heaven should just follow you around? There's a bigger picture here." Castiel leaned in closer to me and I reflexively tilted my head away.  I was too close to

  
 _him_.

  
I didn't trust myself.  "You should show me some respect." I didn't know whether to feel turned on or scared as fuck, but I couldn't help looking at his lips again. "I dragged you out of hell, I can throw you back in." And with that, Castiel vanished, and I woke up back on the couch, like he had never even been here.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Red. Blood. Red. Fire. Red. Screams.  Red. My screams. Red. The screams of others. Red. I wanted to die. But I was already dead. This was as far from

_heaven_

as I could get.  I took a sharp breath, opening my eyes, and the screaming faded into the silence of a hotel room.  A silence that was broken by a rough, "Hello Dean." I flipped over and saw a trenchcoated figure on the end of the bed, looking at the wall.  I don't know why I

_chose_

to sleep anyway.  The nightmares were getting worse.  "What were you dreaming about?"  My breath shook slightly as I pushed the tangled covers off of my body.  Why did Castiel pick

_such_

a bad time to show up?  I was shaken pretty badly from the dream, but I couldn't let him see that.  I looked at Castiel and the blue of his eyes was soothing somehow.  My eyes flicked to his lips. 

_A_

smart ass comment was needed about now, this moment was getting too much like Edward and Bella from Twilight.  "What, you get your freak on by watching people sleep?" The silence was successfully

_broken,_

but Castiel didn't respond, or take his eyes off mine.  I tried again, "What do you want?" I looked Castiel up and down, but his gaze still didn't break.

_Man,_

this was starting to make me uncomfortable.  The thoughts I had been trying to suppress during Castiel's absence came right 

_to_

the forefront of my mind as soon as he appeared in the hotel room.  We were alone in a hotel room.  Downstairs brain, shut the fuck up.  God 

_help_

me I was lusting after an angel. "Listen to me," Castiel's voice cut through my thoughts, "you have to

_stop_

it." I just woke up, I was too tired for this cryptic shit.  If this had anything to do with any more of the seals to stop the rise of 

_Lucifer,_

I was not ready.  "Stop what?" Castiel looked at me almost like he was apologizing in advance, and then pressed two fingers to my forehead.  I went from sitting in the hotel bed, to standing in the middle of a town street.  So this is what Castiel does then, watches me while I sleep and then transports me somewhere with no explanation beyond 'Hello

_Dean,_

you need to stop it.'  What the fuck was 'it', and more importantly, where the fuck was I?

 

*~*~*

 

I 

_had_

just met my dad in a diner, in the year 1973.  I wanted answers, and I was determined to find them.  John Winchester turned around a corner and I continued to follow him.  As I sharply walked around the brick building I almost ran directly into Castiel.  Where the hell had he

_been?_

"What is this?" I asked indignantly. Expression indistinguishable, Castiel looked directly at me and did his annoying habit of answering questions with questions. "What does it look like?" I had been

_through_

enough of this shit today.  I had been thrown almost twenty five years back in time. "Is it real?" I had to at least confirm that  

_much,_

to make sure this wasn't just another one of those angel mind tests."Very real," Castiel said. "Okay," I said, a combination of exasperation 

_and_

confusion written all over my face, "How did I get here?" Castiel looked around before making eye contact, "Time is fluid Dean.  It's not easy, but we can bend 

_it_

on occasion."  Castiel kept looking at me, and I tried to draw comfort from his eyes again, but they seemed guarded.  What

_does_

bending time even mean? I tried not to let the desperation I was feeling

_show,_

but I don't think it was working.  "Well then bend it back, or tell me what the hell I'm doing here."  "I told you,"

_he_

responded, and deepened his gaze so it felt like that dark blue was x-raying me. "You have to stop it." He 

_has_

got to learn to stop doing that; these half answers were giving me a headache.  "Stop what? Huh? Is something nasty after my dad?" a car screeched on the other side of the building, and in the split second I

_spent_

to turn around and look at it, Castiel had flew away. I spun in a circle to check, and he was really gone. I clenched my jaw, "Come on, are you allergic to straight answers you son of a bitch!?" I had been zapped several

_years_

away from my time, and I didn't have the patience for this game. 

*~*~*

I was driving, but my mind was anywhere but the road.  Mary was a hunter.  My mom, a ghost ganking, demon killing, charm wearing, hunter.  And she wanted to raise Sam and me 

_in_

a safe, normal, one hundred percent monster free environment.  According to Mary, John was sweet and kind, and believed in happily ever after. 

_Hell,_

I didn't know what to think.  I was in way over my head here.  Looking to my right, I realized I wasn't driving alone.  I inhaled sharply and barely kept from swerving off the road.  

_His_

face was to the road, impassive.  "So what, God's my copilot now, is that it?" I looked back at Castiel's trenchcoated form and my eyes met blue.  After a few seconds I broke the gaze and turned back to the highway.  "Tell me something, Sam would've wanted in on this, and wanted to see our 

_parents._

Why didn't you bring him back?" There was a slight pause, and then Castiel spoke, "You 

_are_

meant to do this alone Dean."  More cryptic answers. Perfect. "And you don't care that Sam is tearing up the future looking for me right now?" It almost took physical effort to keep my head from turning away from the road.  With his blue stare

_gone,_

I felt a loss of protection.  I didn't like it.  I faintly heard Castiel say, "Sam is not looking for you," but my thoughts were focused somewhere else.  "If I do this, the family curse breaks, right? Mom

_and_

Dad live happily ever after, and Sam and I grow up playing little league?"  Sam deserved that. 

_His_

life would've been so much different, so much better, if we weren't thrown into hunting.  Castiel gave me a chance to do things differently, to save my 

_brothe_ _r,_

and I was going to do whatever I could to make that happen.  Castiel's voice shook me back to the car.  "You realize, if you do alter the future, your father, you, Sam, you'll never become hunters.  All the people you've saved, they'll die."   I can feel that Castiel

_is_

looking at me, but I couldn't bring myself to turn from the road.  "Yes," I said, trying as hard as I could to keep my face expressionless, "I realize."  Castiel spoke again, "And you don't care?" I stopped trying to resist and met Castiel's eyes.  "Oh, I care all right.  I care a lot."

_Dealing_

with this choice wasn't easy, but I was sure of my decision.  I softly shook my head.  "But these are my parents.  I'm not going to let them die again." What was wrong 

_with_

me? I was tearing up.  But for some reason I was confident that Castiel wouldn't think anything less of me for showing emotion. y voice wavered slightly when I said, "I can't."I had the ability to stop the

_demons,_

the chance to put an end to this whole thing before it could even start. 

_I_

took a breath, and my words came out stronger this time, "not if I can stop it."  I looked back at the passenger seat, not expecting 

_pity,_

but expecting those eyes to be there.  Looking into them did something to me.  But Castiel was gone. Again. 

*~*~*

My dad was lying on the ground, and my mom had just brought

_him_

back from the dead by selling her soul to Azazel.   I got there too late.  I didn't change anything.  I couldn't.   And I now knew the whole story.  Not that I wanted to.  Hell, I would rather forget this whole thing.  Even if it did mean forgetting meeting my parents.  Why did   

_he_

even send me back in the first place if he knew I would fail. I focus back on my mother, who 

_is_

cradling John's form.  Samuel, my grandfather, was lying unmoving next to them _,_

_a_

bullet wound in his chest.  How was sending me back here to see this a

_good_

thing? My chest and throat felt weighed down, and tears gathered in my eyes, threatening to spill over.  The sight was too much for me, and would probably be too much for any

_man._

I couldn't look away.  It was transfixing in the worst way possible.   I felt a hand on my shoulder, the same shoulder Castiel had left the handprint on when he pulled me from hell.  It sent a gentle buzz through my body, 

_and_

 I turned to it, inadvertently giving a soft gasp.  My eyes glanced over the trenchcoat and windswept hair and immediately sought out the blue.  

_I_

needed that feeling I got whenever he looked at me, now more than ever.  I met Castiel's gaze and it felt softer than usual.  I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.  Unshed tears blurred my vision, I 

_wish_

I could have done something, anything, to change what happened.  But I was too late. I failed.  Castiel's grip on my shoulder tightened slightly, forcing my thoughts to fade, and redirecting my attention to his eyes.  I don't know how long 

_we_

stayed like that, just standing. Staring.  With the fading echo of wings flapping, Castiel and I were back in the hotel room.  It

_didn't_

look any different. I sat up with a sharp breath and untangled myself from the bedsheets.Castiel was standing at the foot of the bed, looking the same as always.  I didn't know if I would

_have_

the ability to speak without breaking, without crying.  That's one thing I couldn't do right now.  "I couldn't stop any of it," I said softly.  I didn't know if I was saying it

_to_

myself or Castiel.  I took a few breaths to recompose myself, "She still made the deal." I glanced down at the bed I was sitting in.  "She still died in that nursery, didn't she?"  Castiel looked everywhere but at me, "Don't 

_put_

the blame on yourself Dean, you couldn't have stopped it." It took me a moment to register what Castiel had said, and even longer to respond, "What?" I asked

_him,_

my voice coming out much more broken than I had intended.  I didn't understand, why would he have put me

_through_

this if I couldn't change anything? How was that okay? I stood up slowly and blinked.  "Destiny can't be changed Dean," Castiel turned back to me, 

_"All_

roads lead to the same destination." What Castiel was saying was there was never even any hope in the first place? It was all predetermined, my mom would sell her soul and die on the ceiling

_of_

Sam's nursery; John would raise us into the life, and the soul selling, the deaths, none of it could be changed.  The weight in my chest grew heavier, and my voice shook slightly, "Then why did you send me back?" 

_this_

was low, even for these overly righteous angels.  Castiel spoke, "For the truth.  Now you know everything we do."  I should be angry, but the pit in my chest sucked back most of the frustration.  Desperation leaked into my next question, "What the hell are you talking about?"  I looked at Castiel and 

_he_

dropped his gaze to the empty bed.  It took me a second to realize that he was not suggesting that we take advantage of the empty room, but in his own subtle way, pointing out that the bed was empty.  "Where's Sam?"  I 

_deserved_

a break from this, I had just seen another event that would haunt me in my waking and sleeping hours.  I didn't need a missing brother too.  "We know what Azazel did to your brother, what we don't know is why."  I closed my eyes for a moment to try to take in more earth-shattering information.  I had already dealt with

_far_

more than enough of that today. "Where's Sam." That was all that mattered.  I knew my parents were lost, but I still had the chance to protect my brother.  To keep him safe.  "425 Waterman," Castiel said, and I began walking to the door, throwing on my leather jacket on the way out.  "Your brother is headed down a dangerous road Dean, and we're not sure where it leads. So you had

_better_

stop him.  Or we will." I inhaled sharply, sparing a quick glance at Castiel before walking out the door. 

 


End file.
